Forsaken | Petyr Baelish

Prologue

Once sweet and bewitching breeze of King's landing, has become bitter. It doesn't burn the way it did before. Now, it knives. I would give anything to leave this place. Yet, I'm still stuck in this labyrinth of sorrow. Every turn I take reminds me of my late father, Lord Eddard Stark. He was beheaded, accused of treason. But my father was no traitor. He was an honorable man and no lies of the coward king will ever change that. Everything my father has ever done was either driven by his goodness or love. O, how I dread the memories of his execution. It was all hectic. I recall standing side by side with my sister, Sansa, waiting for his punishment. I was but 14 years old. The ordeal seemed to never end but then we heard the words. The words that would change everything.

'Bring me his head!'

Now,  17 years of age, I am stuck here, in King's Landing, longing my home. I find moonlit nights strangely empty, nothing strucks me with much joy anymore. I don't eat, I hardly sleep. The only flickering light of hope I rely on is my dear sister, Sansa. We belong together and nothing could ever change that. Her dawn-soaked aura and the feeling I experience only when I'm around her always make me feel a little bit better about my inner turmoil. 

'O, sweet Winterfell,

How I long to see you.

How I miss the fair sense,

Of belonging.'

Nothing completes me anymore. A part of me is forever gone and it will never find its way back. As hard as I try to shake off this notion of otherness and unfamiliarity, I am unable to do so. With every day passing, it gets a little bit harder to breathe. All the young girls and ladies around me seem to be filled, from crown to toe, with joy. When they're near, I always gaze at them and let out a little doleful sigh. Why couldn't this be me? O, but they're all so beautiful. Never have I ever seen such charm combined with such delicacy. I like observing them from time to time. They remind me of myself... back when I was a foolish and naïve little girl.  Sometimes, under the stars, I wish to become that girl once again. I took pleasures in simple things back then. I was happy. Of course, it was mostly due to my own layer of deceit that I wrapped my senses with. 

There was my family, too. It was nice while it all lasted, I suppose. I miss them dearly. I drive myself to madness some days, starving my body, looking at the sky, wondering if they're there, if they know I'm thinking of them. Perhaps, they too, look at the sky and reminisce about the old days or even, think of me. I like to believe so. My mother does this. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. I can feel her stare being reflected by the ethereal skies, directed right at me.

'Mother, can't you see? 

Mama. I love you dearly.'